


Let Me Take Care of You

by bluerose5



Series: Dom!Reyes/sub!Scott One-Shots [2]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Anal Fingering, BDSM, D/s, Drunken Shenanigans, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Insecurity, Long-Distance Relationship, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Sibling Rivalry, Pet Names, Phone Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Game(s), Praise Kink, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Love, Vibrators, dom!reyes, slight angst, sub!Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 06:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10939065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluerose5/pseuds/bluerose5
Summary: Heart pounding, bottom lip swollen from all of his nervous nibbling, Scott listened while the call tried to connect, ringing out some warped tune once, twice… By the third ring, Scott anxiously considered hanging up. Of course, at that very moment, the call connected, Reyes’ face popping up onscreen. Even if it didn’t compare to seeing him in person, like comparing the intensity of a lightbulb to the sun, butterflies still managed to instantly swarm Scott’s stomach, and he subconsciously wondered if Reyes would ever stop having this effect on him.After a night of drinking, Scott woke up with a little surprise while on shore leave at the Nexus. Now, all that is left to do is to call Reyes and perform some damage control. Fluff, angst, and smut ensue.





	Let Me Take Care of You

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this "one-shot" got completely out of hand. This turned out way longer than expected. Had to do a bit of editing, but I think I'm content with how it turned out. Hope you all enjoy! Don't be afraid to leave any comments or feedback!
> 
> Also, brief disclaimer: The visual aids aren't any originals of mine. I just did a bit of photo editing because I like having images like these to make the story come to life a bit more. Hope you like those.
> 
> Other Notes: I use a custom f!Ryder (Aurora "Rory") and used a bit of headcanon in Scott's background to briefly explain his relationship dynamics with Reyes. And these two don't necessarily use a safeword (which is a no-no if you're interested in the lifestyle), but Scott knows that he should tell Reyes if anything makes him too uncomfortable, and Reyes trusts Scott to let him know if he crosses a line.

Scott should’ve known better than to go out drinking.

Well, the problem didn’t seem to lay in the fact that he had been drinking, per se. After all, Scott was well aware of his limits, and he knew from experience that he could hold a pretty decent amount of liquor, if he did say so himself. So, no, that wasn’t the issue here. Nothing wrong ever came from going out with the crew on the Nexus, occupying their now regular table at the Vortex. All of them would put aside their differences for the night, leaving all of the petty bullshit on the _Tempest_ so that their little de facto family could enjoy their brief reprieve away from all of Andromeda’s many troubles. So, no, the problem wasn’t that at all.

The problem was that he was a fucking idiot for going out drinking with Rory around.

While he loved his sister endlessly, and she him, they always seemed to bring out the absolute worst in each other at times. Not only did they inherit the Ryders’ signature adrenaline addiction, but they also developed a stubborn streak of competitiveness. A streak that often got them into some sticky situations.

However, Scott refused to be deterred by that blatant fact. Rory had been recently approved for duty, and Scott loved having his partner-in-crime by his side again. Oh, how Scott had relished the day when he had introduced Rory to Evfra, savoring the angara’s disgruntled expressions and biting remarks, as if just being in the Ryders’ presence was giving him health issues of all kinds. Even the politicians on the Nexus seemed to fear what yet _another_ Ryder could mean for them. Of course, this only led to him and Rory snickering behind their backs, joking at their expense because, if any Ryder in the universe could be labeled as the “Good Ryder,” it was her. They just happened to have had bad luck in getting Scott, they joked.

Sadly, it was exactly all of this that had gotten to Scott, though. Rory’s return and familiarity had lulled him into a blind sense of comfort, believing that their little dynamic duo was truly invulnerable to any and all mistakes. So, when Rory had started drinking with them at the Vortex, a rarity for her, Scott thought nothing of it. He was simply happy to have her around, while also trying his damnedest to ignore the fact that she was making goo-goo eyes at Jaal. Or, even worse, that Jaal –his traitorous best friend- was making goo-goo eyes _back_. At his _sister_ , no less! Liam and Scott had taunted Jaal about breaking the “bro code” of sleeping with your friend’s sister, but that only ended in having to explain what this fictitious “bro code” even was.

Yeah… Scott just decided to brood lightheartedly from the sidelines. It wasn’t worth the effort, and Rory was happy, which in turn made Scott happy.

Nonetheless, this sibling love seemed to dissipate entirely as the evening went on. Scott had made the idiotic mistake of taunting Rory, asking if she was well enough to keep up with everyone else’s drinking. With narrowed eyes and a heated gaze, Rory had stared at Scott resolutely, a challenge twinkling in those emerald green eyes. Downing the last of her beer, she had ordered her first round of shots, downing those swiftly before asking Scott if he could keep up with a real heavyweight. Of course, Scott —being the stupid punk that he is— had instantly bristled at the challenge, a good amount of alcohol already buzzing through his system, with his prideful ego refusing to step back from such defiance.

Wavering over the decision uncertainly, that wretched, little devil on his shoulder eventually won the battle, and he found himself drinking right along with Rory for the rest of the evening, matching her drink for drink. Scott had even made sure to tell SAM to turn off any unnecessary augmentations that could help him. He hadn’t stooped so low as to cheat with Gil at poker, and he damn well wasn’t about to be accused of cheating against his sister. Before things had went too far, however, SAM had alerted the crew when their blood alcohol levels had reached a concerning height. They were both cut off for the rest of the evening, left pouting in their chairs petulantly, water being shoved at them by an annoyed Lexi.

Things had started blurring around that time, though, the alcohol soaking completely into the twins’ systems. Both of them had managed to escape the crew at one point in the night, singing loudly together and stumbling against one another as they journeyed throughout the Nexus’ corridors.

Scott could just barely recall _everything_ they did, but it was one thing that he remembered clearly enough that had sent him into a wave of panic the next morning, jumping out of bed and pulling a pair of sweat pants and a random t-shirt on, hoping like hell that nobody was in the showers. Bare feet slapping noisily against the floor, echoing and bouncing around the chasm of his mind, Scott roughly shoved his throbbing migraine to the back of his consciousness, trying his best to repress it until he verified that that memory wasn’t a memory at all, but some alcohol-induced hallucination. He couldn’t have been _that_ stupid; even if he had been, Rory would have stopped him.

Right?!

Entering the community bathroom, Scott briefly wondered if he should reconsider being an atheist because it had to have been through some sort of divine providence alone that no one had decided to come in yet. Abusing his Pathfinder authority, along with those codes that Kallo had given him, Scott overrode the doors and made sure that they were both locked, barring anyone from disturbing him.

Once that was out of the way, Scott stripped himself of his clothes, throwing them ferociously on the floor. Turning so his body was facing away from the mirror, Scott did his best to keep his lower half in place as he turned his upper body to the side awkwardly, craning his neck around achingly to see his back’s reflection. Seeing a bandage taped snugly to his lower back, Scott’s heart stuttered out a staccato rhythm in his chest, beating strongly against his ribcage, as if it wanted out. Well, some part of Scott probably wouldn’t mind that at the moment, he thought in surrender, reaching around to slowly peel off the bandage, attempting to swallow past the lump in his throat. He hoped that his memory was wrong. God did he hope. He knew that it wasn’t, of course, but that slim-to-none possibility that it _could be_ wrong still managed to give him some minor comfort at the moment, even if it was highly unlikely. As soon as he peeled the last of the tape off and removed the dressing, what he saw made his stomach sink to the floor, mouth becoming as dry as a desert, followed closely by an eerie sense of calm that flooded through him at the sight laid before him.

Because, there it was, just as he fuzzily remembered. A damned tattoo. And not just _any_ kind of tattoo, but a fucking tramp stamp, of all things! It reflected back from the mirror as if it was taunting him, nestled right above his ass, spanning the width of his lower back. Could anybody blame him if he just happened to cry out in anger and frustration right now, ranting and raving at whatever forces of the universe that thought that this sick joke was funny? Even if it ran the risk of waking the crew next door, it sounded like a good idea. A very good one.

No. Nuh-uh. Scott was a grown man. He was a grown man, 22 years old, and —damn it— he wasn’t about to have a mental breakdown because he managed to do something irreversibly stupid, like marking his body for life in a fit of intoxication. He could deal with this, perform damage control, find some way to get the thing removed before anyone saw it.

It wasn’t even like Scott was going to be showing that skin anytime soon, not intentionally anyways. The entire situation just sort of pissed him off because he had wanted a tattoo, had been discussing it with Rory, had even asked Vetra if anyone had brought any kits to Andromeda with them that he could get his hands on, or if anyone would be willing to simply do his, period. He had been planning on getting something meaningful, sentimental, artistic… This… this wasn’t what Scott had in mind.

And don’t get Scott wrong. The black tattoo looked gorgeous and aesthetically pleasing in its own right, contrasting against his pale skin attractively. Sharp, curvy tribal-style markings intertwined harmoniously to form a beautiful “v” shape, clinging closely to frame the curves of Scott’s ass. A silhouette of a regal crown rested above it, centered perfectly with the tribal markings, but it was the part in between these two things that made Scott chew on his lip, skin crawling with a confusing mixture of both lust and exasperation. Because, centered in the middle of the tattoo rested one name in an Old English print.

Reyes Vidal.

Scott, honestly, didn’t know how to feel about that. That his drunken mind, without any concept or concern for reality, had somehow thought that getting his boyfriend’s name tattooed on his body was a good idea. Not that Scott hadn’t entertained the idea while he was sober, but it was always fleeting, swiftly dismissed before the idea could root itself firmly into his mind. Well, apparently some part of that idea not only stuck to his mind, but it also seemed to be an appealing enough plan for his drunk self to actually go through with it.

For now, though, there wasn’t much to do about it. Other than pray that Vetra’s connections extended to someone who could _remove_ a tattoo. Rubbing his hands down his face wearily, feeling his bristly stubble catch at his palms, Scott felt the headache begin to return with an exacting vengeance. Redressing himself sloppily, Scott told SAM to override the doors again and unlock them, picking up the discarded bandage and tape to dispose of in his room. Once done, he told SAM to activate the “Do Not Disturb” protocols for his quarters, undressing himself for the final time before sliding into his bed, burrowing securely under his blankets while his mind drifted into unconsciousness.

***

“Pathfinder,” SAM chimed, disturbing Scott’s sleep several hours later. Scott huffed at the AI grumpily for interrupting such a peaceful doze, smooshing his face further into his pillow, pulling his comforters up over his head to hide from the room’s blinding lights.

“What, SAM?” Ryder grouched in irritation, voice muffled through the thick layers of fabric piled on top of him.

SAM chirped and then paused, as if hesitant to answer, which made Ryder instantly alarmed because SAM rarely showed emotions, if at all, let alone any sign of discomfort. Throwing the covers off of him haphazardly, Scott sat up in his bed, naked as the day he was born and hair wild like a rat’s nest. Giving the SAM terminal his full attention, Scott pondered the AI for a minute before pressing on cautiously. “Everything okay, SAM?”

“Yes, Pathfinder. At least, I believe it is. I had decided to awaken you, however, because you have received several new messages from Mr. Vidal on your omnitool.”

“Reyes?” Scott questioned, feeling as if his lower back had a hole burning through it from just saying the man’s name aloud. It wasn’t like they went long periods without speaking, however, so it’s not like Reyes could possibly know, Scott reasoned to himself. Reyes was probably just checking up on him as he always did, Scott reassured himself, trying to control his breathing. “What did he say, SAM?”

“You know that I try to limit access to your personal messages, outside of your emails, Pathfinder,” SAM chided. “Nevertheless, what pieces of the messages that did manage to come through suggested that Mr. Vidal wishes to speak with you verbally. Over a video frequency, preferably, but an audio comm channel would be acceptable as well.”

“Okay…” Scott said, eyebrows furrowing, a pile of rocks settling deep into his gut. Scott just had a feeling that Reyes’ urgent need to speak with him couldn’t be a coincidence, not with the surprise that Scott had found awaiting him this morning. Scott began gnawing on his lip worriedly, wanting to check his omnitool to see if he had sent any drunken messages that he couldn’t remember, but afraid to see what messages Reyes had already sent him in return. Sensing Scott’s uncertainty, SAM thankfully changed the subject.

“Scott, Aurora has been waiting for you to awaken as well. She says that she wants to speak to you about last night.”

“Why do I have a feeling that you’re sugarcoating it, SAM?” Scott sighed.

“Well, Aurora’s exact words were, ‘Tell my brother to get his lazy ass up. We need to talk.’ However, I simply find my methods are less vulgar and prefer it that way.”

Scott couldn't help chuckling softly at that, happy that SAM was finding the little things to help forge its identity, outside of Scott’s own convoluted perceptions of the universe.

“Good,” Scott replied, getting up to gather his clothes and toiletries, wrapping a fresh towel around his bare waist. “Nice to know that we haven’t corrupted the youngest Ryder sibling. But, I’m going to go take a shower. Tell Rory that she can come on in and make herself at home, _only_ as long as she brings coffee with her.”

“Right away, Scott,” SAM calls out.

Trudging into the bathroom, Scott was thankful that he lucked out again with nobody around, probably because it was close to mid-afternoon, and this was their last day on this brief shore leave at the Nexus. Everyone was probably out making the most of it, visiting family, friends, acquaintances, business partners, etc. It would probably be awhile before they returned to the station, so it made sense that the crew would want to savor it for as long as possible. For Scott, though, with most of his paperwork and meetings already finished, he just wanted to settle down and rest for today. _Especially_ after last night. The only things on his agenda today were Rory, Reyes, and hopefully a Blasto marathon.

Of course, things never go as planned.

After taking his sweet time in the shower, running the water at a steaming hot temperature to unwind the coiled knots of tension in his frame, Scott hummed some old, Earth song under his breath while he lathered in an angaran-made soap that Jaal had gifted him from Sahuna. It was an intricacy, a family-made recipe that was composed of layers upon layers of different scents, so deliciously strong that Scott’s head sometimes spun from just one whiff, only able to inaccurately define one or two of the many aromas that hinted of mint and pine equivalents. Whatever it was, Scott mentally noted that he should make sure to give his space mom the biggest hug ever when he saw her again. If there ever was a god, that woman was definitely god-sent.

As Scott’s hands rubbed the soap around, sudsy washcloth in one hand and soap bar in the other, he became hesitant the more he avoided his lower back, literally washing everywhere until that was the only unwashed spot left. Tracing the ink-raised skin gently, Scott took special care when he finally did decide to wash there, shuddering a little at the tickling sensations at the base of his spine. As he started to rinse off, Scott noticed that, in between each transition to another body part, his fingers kept finding some excuse or another to slither on back to the tattoo, tracing that one spot in particular that left Scott all hot and flustered. Of all things, Scott just had to get Reyes’ name, didn’t he?

But, Scott couldn’t deny that the tattoo appealed to some of his baser desires, that part of him that seemed to love it when Reyes became possessive during sex, leaving a mark here or there to remind Scott that he belonged exclusively to him. Scott ached for the moments like that, to feel so sure that he belonged with someone, _to_ someone, and that that certain someone belonged just as much to Scott as well. With Reyes, he got all of that, all of it and so much more. He never knew he could feel so fulfilled in a relationship, but they made it possible together.

And now, Scott had a brand.

Just calling it that, as if he was referring to himself as Reyes’ property, it shouldn’t have sounded as amazing as it did. It shouldn’t have sent blood rushing to his cock, flooding it with warmth, while his face heated in a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. It shouldn’t have, but it did. And it felt so good…

Shutting the shower off abruptly, Scott chastised himself for getting so caught up, drying off his hair and body angrily, pointedly avoiding his erection so that it would –hopefully- die down by the time that he was ready to go speak with Rory. Retrieving his outfit of the day, a fresh pair of gray sweatpants, some fluffy white socks, and a light blue tank top, Scott got dressed and finished up what was supposed to be his morning routine, exiting the bathroom and stopping by the kitchen to make himself a bowl of cereal before heading to his room.

As soon as he stepped in, the bitter smell of coffee assaulted his senses, making his mouth water at the idea of having some caffeine in his system. Rory turned at the quiet _swish_ of the opening doors, situated comfortably on _that_ couch. That very couch that he and Reyes had christened the first time that Reyes had visited the _Tempest_ while they were stationed at Kadara port. Resisting the urge to give her an impish grin, Scott decided to keep that little fact to himself as he sat down next to her, setting his bowl of cereal on the coffee table and getting his mug of coffee off of its heating pad, relishing the warmth that spread through his hands. They sat in a companionable silence for a moment, both sipping at their drinks, before Rory finally broke and spoke first.

“So…” She drawled, for once not clear on what to say. Scott snorted humorlessly.

“So… We’re never drinking together again,” Scott started, placing his coffee on the heating pad and diving straight for his cereal, feeling his stomach begin to rumble irritably.

“Understandable,” Rory sighed, looking out of his windows lazily, arm resting against the back of the couch, legs tucked up on the cushions. “Then again, we seem to say that every time, but we never actually do it.”

“I think this time is different, Rory,” Scott grumbled around a mouthful of cereal, grinning when Rory scrunched her nose up delicately at his apparent lack of manners around her. He shrugged, swallowing the soggy cereal noisily. “I never came out of our other drinking fits with a permanent souvenir.”

Rory winced. “Yeah, we were both a bit wasted.”

"'A bit'?” Scott asked incredulously. Rory smiled bitterly.

“Okay, a lot. Still, that ‘souvenir’ of yours was, sort of, why I wanted to talk to you,” she replied, shifting nervously, eyes darting away from Scott’s. Scott felt his stomach settle uncomfortably at the subject.

As far as he could recall, Rory had been the only one with him when he had gotten the tattoo. Somehow, he had remembered one of the names that Vetra had given him, that specific one that was stationed on the Nexus as a technician. The woman had salvaged the supplies from her personal cache after the mutiny. And, upon his arrival, she had looked at him as if he was insane when he explained what he wanted; however, finding no legitimate reason to argue with the Pathfinder, especially when he transferred her a shitload of credits as “encouragement,” the woman agreed readily.

“I know it’s not my most shining moment, Rory, but I’ll talk to Vetra. See if there is any equipment at our next stop that could be used to remove it,” Scott reassured her. Only, that seemed to serve to make her even more uncomfortable, gaze finally settling uneasily on the SAM terminal before she spoke again.

“That— That might not be the best idea, Scotty,” Rory said hesitantly, meeting his gaze for a millisecond before fixating back on the blue orb. Tensing stiffly, Scott definitely knew something was up now. Rory only called him “Scotty” (their mother’s nickname for him) when she had something to apologize for. One would think that she would’ve learned to fix that tell by now, but that was the least of Scott’s worries at the moment.

“Rory…” Scott prodded. “What did you do?”

“Just promise not to get mad,” Rory requested weakly, finally managing to meet his gaze again.

“You know that I don’t make promises that I probably won’t keep,” Scott reminded her, getting antsy and impatient. “Now, spill.”

“Okay…” Rory took a deep breath, her next sentence spilling out so swiftly that it was nearly an unintelligible garble of words. “I-may-or-may-not-have-sent-Reyes-a-picture-of-the-tattoo-last-night.”

Scott nearly fell off the couch from the impact.

Inhaling sharply, he began choking on a piece of cereal that oh-so elegantly decided to get lodged down his throat, hacking dangerously while Rory started pounding her hand against his back frantically, not quite sure what to do. Carelessly, Scott practically threw his cereal bowl on the table, grabbing his cup of coffee off the heating pad and gulping down a searing swallow, most likely giving his mouth second degree burns along the way, slamming the cup back down with considerable force.

With the life-threatening piece of cereal out of the way, though, Scott croaked out loudly at his sister, _“YOU DID WHAT?!”_

Rory grimaced apologetically, shrugging helplessly. “I was drunk,” she defended feebly, a shiny, glossy veil falling over her grassy eyes. And, shit, Scott didn’t need to use his twin connection to know that she was genuinely broken up about it, probably had been berating herself the entire morning about her drunken mistakes. She was used to being the responsible one, after all, and the self-deprecating disappointment written all over her face told Scott everything he needed to know. When it came to this, he could bitch and moan and yell and scream all his little heart desired. It would be justified and completely warranted, but it just wouldn’t have anything on the way that she was already punishing herself. So, Scott —the softy that he was when it came to Rory— decided to restrain himself against that raging desire to verbally attack the same individual that so happened to be one of the main chinks in his armor.

Closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Scott started to count to ten in his head slowly, an idiotic exercise that Lexi recommended in order to help “control his temper.” Inhale. Exhale. When it didn’t work, he started over again. And again and again. Inhale. Exhale. Deep breaths. Around the eleventh or twelfth round, Scott was feeling somewhat balanced again. Royally pissed off. But balanced, not as off-kilter as before. Everything was fine. Everything was just fine.

If he kept saying it enough, he might actually start believing it.

Not.

Still, Scott took another deep breath before addressing Rory. Just in case.

“Did he say anything back to you, Rory?” Scott gritted out, digging his fingernails into his thighs to try and ground him, hoping ineffectively that the pain would distract from the fury. It didn't help. At all.

Rory started nibbling furiously on her lip, eyes now focused on the fidgeting hands in her lap.

“No. Well, I mean, he probably did,” Rory speculated, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully, sorting through her blurry catalog of memories from the night before, “but I think I vaguely realized what had happened. I panicked and blocked him on my messenger.”

“Explains why SAM said he’s messaged me quite a bit this morning.” Scott sighed, groaning as he threw his body limply against the back of the couch, rubbing his hands along his face roughly.

Rory sighed guiltily.

“Well, try looking on the bright side, Scott,” she chirped suddenly, her eager tone falling flat the instant it left her mouth.

“What bright side?” he grunted.

“At least you didn’t propose to your boyfriend,” Rory said, tone suggesting that maybe this would make things better. It didn’t, at first, but when her words fully registered, he took his hands off of his face and turned to her, eyebrows raised incredulously.

“Please, tell me you’re kidding, Rory.” She shrugged, smiling sheepishly. “Oh, God, you proposed to Jaal?!”

“Shhh….” She shushed him, hand slapping against his mouth roughly. “Go ahead and alert the entire Nexus while you’re at it, big mouth!”

Scott shrugged her off, eyes bulging in astonishment. She was right. While its magnitude wasn’t necessarily as bad as his, this was just golden. “Well, spit it out, Rory. What did he say? What did _you_ say?”

Shrugging again, this time nervously, a blush rose up through her slightly tanned cheeks, her eyes darting down to her fidgeting hands. “I sort of- I don’t know!” She gesticulated wildly with her hands, avoiding Scott’s eyes. “When the crew finally found us last night, I might have said something along the lines of ‘You’re one fine space alien-cat-squid-man, and I would be so honored to be Misses Alien-Cat-Squid-Man.’ Let’s just say that Jaal was not impressed, especially after he asked Liam what a cat and a squid were. Then, he said I tried to wink at him, and he thought I was having a seizure. Was ready to take me to Lexi and everything. ”

Feeling a giggle slip through sealed lips, Scott just couldn’t hold it in any longer, or he was going to explode. His laughter roared, diffusing through the room loudly, and possibly disturbing anyone else that had decided to linger aboard the ship. It was as if the floodgates had opened, and Scott briefly reconsidered whether he truly had it worse or not because that was just so fucking bad.

“It’s not funny, Scott,” she reprimanded, crossing her arms with a bitter huff.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Scott wheezed. “That’s not funny because it’s _hilarious_. I feel bad for poor Jaal, being called a kitty-squid during a proposal. That’s just low.”

Rory grumbled. “Yeah, not my most articulate work. After he consulted Liam, he just had this petulant pout on his face for the rest of the walk to the _Tempest_ , and I had sort of teased him and demanded to know if we were going to get married or not. He just looked me straight in the face and said, ‘Try again some other day, Aurora. Preferably when you’re sober.’ and walked off.”

Scott snickered. “You’re so horrible. Hey, at least it wasn’t a ‘no.’ Just a ‘maybe later.’”

“True enough,” Rory sighed. Then, a sly look appeared on her face, eyes cutting towards Scott mischievously. “No worries, though. I made sure to apologize this morning to him for my horrendous behavior last night. Very thoroughly, I might add.”

“Okay, ew,” Scott said, making a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “Too much, Rory, too much.” They exchanged a brief laugh before things fell silent, Scott staring up unseeingly at the ceiling.

Rory whispered, “So, what are you going to do?”

“Face the music, of course.” Scott shrugged nonchalantly. “Not much else I can do right now. Worst case scenario, he hates it, and Vetra can’t find someone to remove it. I guess I could always get it covered somehow.”

“And the best case scenario?”

“He likes it, and I keep it,” Scott stated firmly.

“I like it,” Rory said decisively after a second of silence, standing up and cleaning up the mess left behind on the coffee table, powering off the heat pads and gathering the dishes. “It might not be what you imagined for your first one, but it looks incredible. Besides, I might not know Reyes as well as I should, but who knows? He might surprise you.”

With that statement left soaking in the air, Rory dismissed herself, leaving Scott behind, contemplating the ceiling. After a moment, he sighed resignedly, pulling up his omnitool interface, looking through the messages. No use drawing this out.

“SAM, initiate ‘Do Not Disturb’ protocols and activate your ‘Privacy’ settings, please,” Scott requested, not particularly keen on having his AI witness this conversation with Reyes.

“As you wish, Pathfinder.”

***

**_You have (5) unread messages._ **

**R: Scott, what was that picture that your sister sent me?**

**R: Please, tell me that that isn’t what I think it is.**

**R: Call me.**

**R: You’re seriously going to ignore me after this? We need to talk, Scott. If this is some kind of joke, it’s not funny.**

**R: What were you thinking? If you don’t want to talk face-to-face or on a comm channel, then just message me when you can. I think we’re both mature enough to handle that, at least.**

Reading through the messages repeatedly, Scott chewed on his lip worriedly, and he couldn’t ignore the accompanying feeling of dread that passed through him as he continued to over-analyze each and every response. Reyes wasn’t happy. That much was obvious, and some selfish part of Scott didn’t want to have this confrontation. That little center of his brain that relied distinctly on pleasing itself didn’t want Reyes to send reality banging on its door, and it was that part of his mind that forced Scott into acknowledging that there was some fraction of him that _really liked_ having that tattoo. Even if no relationship had a one hundred percent guarantee to last, Scott didn’t care. Reyes was worth the risk, and even if he left Scott today (not saying that he _would_ ), Scott wouldn’t ever regret a second he spent with the older man. If he wasn’t positive of anything else, Scott knew that to be the certain, honest-to-god truth.

So, it was with that conviction in mind that Scott strolled over to his bed, sitting down on the edge as he pulled up the video conference interface on his omnitool. Scrolling through his contacts, he saw that Reyes was active, and before he could convince himself of chickening out, he pressed the call button.

Heart pounding, bottom lip swollen from all of his nervous nibbling, Scott listened while the call tried to connect, ringing out some warped tune once, twice… By the third ring, Scott anxiously considered hanging up. Of course, at that very moment, the call connected, Reyes’ face popping up onscreen. Even if it didn’t compare to seeing him in person, like comparing the intensity of a lightbulb to the sun, butterflies still managed to instantly swarm Scott’s stomach, and he subconsciously wondered if Reyes would ever stop having this effect on him. It was as if Scott was simultaneously suffocating and inhaling fresh air for the first time, blood pounding unusually loud in his ears, heart galloping at an unhealthy pace. Swallowing thickly past the dizzying sensations, he reminded himself that he should say something.

“Reyes,” Scott greeted softly, smile blooming shyly across his face. Hearing Scott say his name like that, all sugary and sweet, clearly affected Reyes as well, tension leaking out of his shoulders slightly as he grinned back at his beautiful boyfriend.

“Scott,” Reyes purred in response, his accent caressing Scott’s name in a way that made him practically glow in a full-body blush. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, mi cariño.”

“You’re one to talk,” Scott deflected. He paused briefly before continuing, “I miss you.”

Reyes’ entire demeanor seemed to deflate at that, eyes warm and welcoming, smile almost dopey as it stretched across his face. Neither man had ever been in a relationship quite like this before, Reyes especially, and it still astonished him that he could mean so much to someone like Scott, someone so passionate and so brutally honest, someone that could be presented with a world of his own and would give you the entire universe back on a silver platter, regardless of if you deserved it or not. While he was truly an amazing gift, beyond anything that Reyes had ever hoped to dream for, Reyes hadn’t contacted Scott in order to have the younger man gush over him, even though that _was_ an enjoyable side benefit.

“Ah, I miss you too, Scott,” he whispered affectionately, “but I’m sure we both know that that wasn’t the reason why I asked you to speak with me.”

“Oh…” Scott said lamely, biting his lip determinedly. Reyes waited, and when he didn’t get an immediate answer, he huffed in annoyance.

“‘ _Oh_ ’ is right, Scott. It doesn’t matter that you’ve gotten a tattoo, mi cariño. It’s your body, and no one should control what you decide to do with it.”

“But…?”

“ _But_ , what does bother me is the fact that you’ve gotten one with my name on it,” Reyes snapped, upset that Scott was being so short with him, as if he wasn't comprehending the magnitude of this situation and what it meant to Reyes. Scott looked stubbornly away from those piercing eyes, feeling his own temper flaring up at the challenge, all of those sweet, fuzzy feelings from before vanishing like a wisp of smoke.

“Does it even matter now, Reyes? It’s over and done with,” Scott rebutted. “So, can we just drop this?”

“No,” Reyes said. “This isn’t something that can be dropped, Scott. That’s— That’s _serious_. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” Scott defended. “I was drunk.”

“Yes, because that makes me feel so much better about this,” Reyes muttered angrily, accent thickening with every word. “I don’t understand why it would cross your mind that _this_ would be okay with me, Scott.”

Hearing those words cut through Scott like jagged shards of glass. Wincing visibly from the impact, wrapping his right arm tight around his middle, he did his best to swallow the acidic, bitter taste of rejection as it crawled down his throat sluggishly, settling like a stone in his stomach. He blinked away the burning sensation in his eyes, clenching and unclenching his jaw, gritting his teeth firmly. All of these warring emotions circulated through Scott’s body: anger, frustration, stubbornness, defiance. Hurt. Mainly hurt. And a tiny voice prodded at Scott from the recesses of his mind, telling him to hurt Reyes like he had hurt him. But Scott knew better. Because, like Rory, the last thing that Scott would ever do was intentionally hurt Reyes. So Scott fell back onto his two main lines of defense. Good old rage and honesty.

“Because I love you, damn it!” Scott retorted unexpectedly, banging his fist against the mattress fruitlessly, looking back into Reyes’ golden eyes, both wanting and not wanting to take the words back as soon as they slipped out. But once they slipped out, all of his reasoning from last night came spilling out as well, penetrating any kind of filter that was supposed to rest between mind and mouth. “Because I love you and some idiotic part of me can’t stop thinking about _you_ , about _us_. About how perfect we are together. Because some part of me is already taking the damned plunge, thinking about a future and wondering if you’re truly in this for the same reasons, Reyes. Because that same part of me had some hopelessly romantic notion that ‘Hey, maybe if I took a step forward, actually took the initiative to take things further on _my terms_ for once, that maybe —just _maybe_ — _he_ would be the one follow to  _me_.’ So, I don’t know why I got your fucking name tattoed on my body, Reyes. Like I said, maybe it was simply because I was fucking drunk, you selfish bastard.”

Without letting him reply, knowing that it was a childish move on his part, but not having even a fraction of a fuck to give at the moment, Scott ended the call, burying his face into his hands with a self-deprecating groan. God, could he screw up this day anymore? _Nice job, Scotty,_ he thought dramatically, _proclaim your undying love for the emotionally constipated man and then proceed to hang up in his face. That'll make this situation_ all  _better._

Real fucking smooth, Ryder.

Of course, it wasn’t like this was news to Scott himself. He was well aware that he was so far gone when it came to Reyes, and many would say stupidly so, considering how Reyes had used him in the past. Guess Scott had a thing for pain. Definitely a hardcore masochist.

But he could also still recall Reyes’ expression after his hideous excuse of a confession, and Scott would like to believe that his anxiety over Reyes’ reaction could excuse his hasty retreat. Scott could still picture Reyes’ eyes widening in pure shock, and it would’ve been comical, had it been under any other circumstances. Scott grumbled disapprovingly to himself, picking imaginary lint off of his bedspread as his omnitool began to chime noisily.

He’s not proud to say that he picked up on the second ring, but he would like to think that he could defend what little dignity he had remaining, only opening up an audio channel as he fell back into the welcoming softness of his bed, staring resolutely at the ceiling, the once bright lighting in his room automatically dimming slightly in accordance with the upcoming night cycle.

“Scott—” Reyes started.

“Don’t,” Scott breathed, interrupting him tersely, “I don’t expect you to say anything back, okay? I don’t expect you to _feel_ anything back, you know?” Scott only hoped that he hadn’t ruined things. “Just act like I didn’t say that… please.”

At Scott’s soft plea, Reyes paused, hesitating on the fence of whether he wanted to push at the man’s boundaries or respect his distance. Truthfully, it really wasn’t much of a choice. Reyes had always been a selfish man, and —well— he just _had_ to know if what Scott had said was true. His boy had always been openly honest in ways that Reyes secretly envied, blossoming readily like a blooming flower under Reyes’ care. Reyes would hate for something like this to close Scott off from him for good. Then again, if they could get over the whole Charlatan thing intact, this should be child’s play, but Reyes could already hear it in Scott’s voice. He was steeling himself for something bad, shutting Reyes out before the older man could cause any emotional suffering, trying to perform damage control a second too late. Reyes swallowed roughly, deciding to bare a little of himself to this man that trusted him so wholly.

_Why did you come here, Reyes?_

_To be someone._

_You’re someone to me._

“And if I don’t want to forget it, Scott?”

Scott exhaled shakily. “I’m afraid,” Scott confessed, deciding to lay all of his cards out on the table, “that this would change things between us. Not in a good way either. That you wouldn’t see me the same. That you would think that I was going too fast or expecting more than you were willing to give.”

_Why didn’t you trust me?_

_I liked the way you looked at me. I was afraid that would change._

_Nothing’s changed._

But things were changed now. Funny how three words could really open a man’s eyes, shift the entire universe in one sitting.

_... I love you…_

So, yeah, things did change in that instant, but it wasn’t in the direction that Scott was anticipating. He had to know that, but first… Reyes needed to hear it again, to verify those three words aloud as the truth.

“Scott,” Reyes whispered, voice quiet and uncertain, “Did you… did you really mean it, mi ángel?”

A loaded silence settled between them, tension palpable on both ends of the conversation. Scott let out another trembling sigh before replying with an unquestionable, “Yes.”

Reyes shuddered, releasing a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding, elation settling cozily into his bones. Trying to calm his racing heart, Reyes knew that it was greedy, knowing that he couldn’t say it back, not yet, but he just needed to hear it again. And again and again.

“Scott,” Reyes whimpered across the comm link, voice breaking slightly. That instantly had Scott on high alert, hearing his lover sound so unusually desperate and out of control. Scott started to squirm on the bed as a pleasant heat began rushing towards his cock, blood pooling determinedly, nipples pebbling under his shirt, brushing against the rough fabric achingly, skin feeling suddenly too tight, knowing that he was the reason that Reyes was coming unbound. He was starting to regret exiting out of the vid call now, opting for audio, but he wasn’t patient enough to set it up right now either, not with his name dripping from Reyes’ mouth like liquid sex. Scott squirmed again. Shena, indeed.

“Reyes,” he replied unsteadily, questioningly, wondering what the man was going to say.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“Say it, mi angel,” Reyes hummed, brown cheeks flushing hotly, desire coiling like a snake in his core.

 “I love you,” Scott sighed, something tight in his chest unravelling, feeling so liberated from saying those words without the anger tainting the meaning behind them. Reyes swore he got impossibly harder from hearing Scott say that, and he could only imagine what it would look like, Scott writhing underneath his body, supple lips sobbing out those words in the throes of ecstasy while Reyes made love to him, over and over, until they were both all sticky and sweaty and sated. Reyes never thought that he would ever want something like that from a partner, that he could ever entirely tether himself to another person. With that image fresh in his mind, however, now he couldn’t imagine _not_ having it.

“Be patient with me, mi ángel,” Reyes begged, knowing that he wasn’t ready to say it right then. It wasn’t even a matter of “if” at the moment, just when. Reyes was a man that liked control, needed it even. He needed his space to do things on his terms, and he could only hope that his sweet boy could understand that. “Just do that for me. Give me time.”

Of course, Reyes’ worries were all for nothing. Of course Scott would begin to read between the lines, hearing the things that Reyes left unsaid, understanding him in a way that only he could. Scott replied contentedly, “Anything. Anything for you.”

“You spoil me.”

“Only because you deserve it.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Well, I am,” Scott declared resolutely, a finality evident in his tone that suggested that Reyes better stop arguing on this or he was going to get his ass kicked the next time the Pathfinder docked in Kadara. Reyes grinned.

“You’re so good to me, mi cariño,” Reyes murmured, adjusting himself momentarily through his clothes, pausing slightly before he decided to take this conversation on a different path. “Such a good boy for your king.”

Shit, Scott knew that tone, and Reyes knew exactly what those words would do to him. It derived from the fact that Scott had always had these impossible standards set on him from a very young age. Growing up as a child prodigy could really screw with a person’s sense of self, if handled incorrectly. His best was never enough to some, and most believed that he was wasting his “natural talents” if he wasn’t isolated in a lab somewhere, putting his brain to “good use.” But that’s all he was to most people, growing up in the most prestigious schools on the Citadel, just another number in the crowd. While he understood that he had it better than most, it did damage to one’s psyche when they were dehumanized to nothing more than some superintelligent human-computer, merely existing to solve life’s problems for others. He was expected to give up his dreams, his personality, his aspirations, his life, and so much more… just to mold himself as society expected. It had taken him years before he had the courage to break that mold, to find it in himself to blaze his own trail. In some ways, while he loved his job more than anything, the inherited Pathfinder position turned out to have quite a few similarities, and people still seemed to treat him as this iconic symbol, instead of treating him as Scott Ryder. But not Reyes. Reyes wasn’t afraid to praise and adore Scott over the small things, to let him know that he mattered beyond his brain and his position and SAM, to ground him into the here and now and treat him like an actual man, instead of a tool to be used only when needed.

And in return, Scott submitted. It didn’t hurt that Scott really, _really_ liked submitting to Reyes either. The older man had this powerful aura around him that made Scott so weak that he craved nothing more than to be on his knees for him, worshipping every inch of him, obeying his king in a way that only his most loyal subject could. This was something that they both needed out of each other, and Scott wouldn’t have had it any other way. To think, they ended up at this point in the evening because of an argument over a tattoo.

Restraining himself from stroking his cock, Scott breathed out his lover’s name in a lusty moan, erection throbbing heavily along with his heartbeat while Scott shifted back until his entire body was splayed out openly on the bed. “Reyes, can I…?”

“Not yet,” Reyes chided. “Are you even naked yet, mi cariño?”

Scott shook his head in reply, remembering an instant later that they were systems apart, replying aloud, “No.”

“Then strip,” Reyes commanded bluntly, listening to the sound of frantic rustling on his omnitool, nearly salivating as he imagined what his desperate boy would look like now, all naked and pliant on his bed, eager to please his king. That was the stuff Reyes lived for. “Do you still have that gift I gave you, cariño?”

“Yes,” Scott whimpered, finishing peeling off his shirt and his pants and those stupid, fluffy socks, haphazardly throwing them around his room, not giving a damn where they landed.

“Go grab it for me, then, and make sure to get your lube.” Reyes chuckled huskily from his end, getting up to pour himself a drink, locking the doors to his private rooms. It wouldn’t do to have any interruptions. Not while he was taking care of his sweet boy. “I have a feeling you’ll need it.”

“Yes, sir,” Scott replied feebly, scrambling off the bed to dig underneath, the cold floor digging into his knees uncomfortably, cock dribbling precum everywhere. Dragging his “toy box” out from under the bed, he took the lid off hurriedly, moving some of the items around until he finally found Reyes’ gift, pulling out his bottle of lube along with it. Closing the lid and shoving the box back into its original position, Scott scrambled back onto the bed, tossing the lube and vibrator next to him. Wavering uncertainly, Scott nearly whined out in confusion. “H-How do you want me?”

“Relax,” Reyes cooed reassuringly. “You’re doing fine, cariño. Do you remember our last time together?”

“Yes,” Scott moaned. “God, yes.”

“Do you remember those positions I taught you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, display yourself for me,” Reyes instructed, his domineering tone settling over Scott like finely spun silk. One would think that it was second nature, how easily Scott unfolded under Reyes’ authority, shifting instantly to please the man, even in his absence. Crawling to the middle of the bed, he sat down on his heels, spreading his thighs, cock proudly jutting out in clear view, chin up, eyes down, hands interlocked behind his head, posture straight and perfect.

Feeling his body sing from this vulnerable state alone, Scott spared a brief thought about being happy that his room’s windows were one-way, knowing that this thing that he and Reyes had going on was for their eyes, and their eyes only.

“Are you with me, Scott?” Reyes asked.

“Yes, my king,” Scott breathed, that sensual title ringer truer than ‘master’ ever could. Of course, Reyes didn't mind hearing the latter coming from Scott’s pink, plump lips, but the former seemed to be more personal, more intimate in ways that embodied their past and their future together. “Always.”

“Be careful, cariño,” Reyes hummed. “That silver tongue might get you into trouble one day.”

Scott took the bait. “And if I like trouble?”

“Are you saying that you wouldn’t be good for me, mi cariño?” Reyes asked, voice mockingly wounded. “How naughty of you.”

“Yeah? And what would you do about it, my king?” Scott retorted defiantly, blood surging happily through his veins, his tone begging for retribution. “What would you do?” Scott challenged. “Spank me?” And there went all of Scott’s shame, apparently.

“Tempting,” Reyes chuckled darkly. “Something I’ll have to keep in mind for later, surely. Though, I’m _telling_ you to be a good boy for me now and let me take care of you. Wouldn’t want to start adding more to your punishment already, now, would we?”

Scott gulped, anticipation and fear and lust sparking like fireworks under his skin, twisting and turning in delicious harmony, turning the switch back on and dissipating all of that fiery rebellion from a second ago. How bad Scott wished that Reyes was here, so that he could bow at his feet, beg him for forgiveness for speaking out of turn, feel those firm, calloused hands spread over his ass before delivering one punishing blow after another. Blushing brightly, voice suddenly timid, Scott whispered, “No, sir.”

“That’s my boy,” Reyes sighed approvingly, Scott preening at the praise. “Now, I want you to only move your hands for me, mi cariño. Get the lube and start stroking yourself. Nice and slow. Can you do that for me, sweet boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Scott whimpered, unfolding his now sore arms from behind his head, grabbing the lube from the bedspread. Uncapping it, he poured a generous dollop into his right hand, the orange interface of his omnitool alighting his actions in a warm glow. Bracing his left hand against his thigh, Scott shivered as his right spread the cool gel along his heated member, stroking as slowly as he possibly could, feeling the muscles in his abdomen flutter with the lazy movements. “My king…”

“That’s it,” Reyes purred, listening to the slick sounds of skin-on-skin, ignoring his own painful erection. “Can you feel me, Scott? Just imagine how it would feel. After I’d spank that sexy ass of yours until it was all red and sore, I’d fuck you so hard that you would feel me all the way in your gut. I'd pound you so hard into the mattress, you wouldn’t even be able to remember your name by the time I was finished with that sweet ass of yours.”

“Fuck!” Scott whined, closing his eyes as sweat started to build up at his hairline, strands falling loosely into his face, plastered against his forehead. He had to harness the will of a god to stop himself from just giving up and fucking into his hand without abandon. He had to listen, though, had to be good for Reyes. He had to. “Reyes…”

“Stop stroking yourself, Scott,” Reyes barked out, hearing how close his boy truly was, and Scott —bless him— instantly stopped with a broken sob. _Damn it_ , Scott thought sorrowfully, taking his hand off of his swollen cock. “So fucking sensitive, cariño, but I’m not ready to be finished with you yet.” Reyes closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to get himself under control, still ignoring his own hardness. With frustration evident in his voice, he gritted out his next command. “Bend over and present yourself, Scott.”

Mewling under his breath, so desperate like the cockslut he was, Scott nearly faceplanted into the bed in his haste to move into position, ass up, thighs spread obscenely wide, puckered hole exposed to the cool air. He could feel himself clenching his muscles around nothing, wanting to sob at the starkly empty feeling that settled inside of him. Feeling an unfounded panic creeping up on him, Scott whimpered pitifully. “I miss you.”

Reyes winced slightly at the pained desperation in Scott’s voice, knowing that his lover was truly feeling the distance between them now, but Reyes knew that he needed to be strong for Scott,  that he needed to guide him as the solid foundation that he became in these moments. He had to keep control.

“I know, mi cariño,” Reyes comforted. “Do you need to stop?”

“No, sir. Please, don’t stop.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Reyes hummed. “Just focus on me, mi ángel. I'll get you through it. Now, I need you to prep yourself for me, sweet boy. Finger yourself, and let me know when you’re all nice and loose for your king.”

Scott breathlessly squeaked out a quick “Yes, sir.” before he grabbed the lube again, coating his fingers some more, reaching back at the best angle he could. With soothing, sensual encouragements from Reyes egging him on, Scott was writhing and loose in little to no time, guiltily rushing through the process, admiring the searing burn emanating throughout his sphincter muscles. When he finally told Reyes he was done, voice wrecked and strained, he could practically hear the evil grin in Reyes’ voice when he replied.

“Grab that little toy for me, sweetheart,” Reyes purred silkily, “set the settings to medium, and fuck that tight hole of yours on it. Make sure to make it filthy, cariño. I want to hear _everything_.”

Soaked in sweat and lube and precum, Scott gave a quiet affirmative, picking up the “little” 7-inch toy and pressed the power button on the bottom of the vibrator. Feeling the toy jolt to life in his hand, trembling slightly at the lowest number, he turned the dial until it was on 5 out of 10, the black, slightly curved dildo vibrating intimidatingly more than its lowest setting.

Swallowing thickly past the lump in his throat, Scott settled back into his previous position, imagining Reyes behind him, admiring Scott as the younger man put on a show for him, the tattoo proudly on display while Reyes watched, the brand as clear as any claim could be.

Circling the vibrator around his rim, Scott released a shaky breath, panting and moaning and squirming before the toy even breached his entrance. As soon as it did, though, Scott’s eyes instantly rolled back into his head at the pulsing vibrations, stimulating Scott’s already sensitive insides in all the right ways. Wild and rough, Scott began fucking himself on the toy in earnest, following Reyes’ lead whenever he told him to slow down and speed up his thrusts, letting all of the noises spill freely from his mouth, the sound of his body greedily sucking the toy in echoing throughout the room, muscles clinging urgently when the toy made any move to pull out.

Feeling as if he was on a precipice, body more than ready to take the leap, Scott knew that he had to let Reyes know. “My king…” Scott cried out, sobbing as the toy brushed his prostate delectably. “I-I’m s-so close… ungh… so close. Let me come, l-let me come… please, master, _please_!” Another shout, and Reyes couldn’t help but admire how impossibly loud Scott was being, how undone he had become as a shiver racked through the older man’s body, hearing his lover call him that so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Beyond the name, though, Reyes decided to push Scott a little more, having nothing but the upmost faith in his boy to follow his directions exactly. “My sweet boy, I’m not done with you yet.”

“B-but…”

Reyes interrupted him bluntly. Because, unless he wanted Reyes to stop, the last thing Reyes wanted was to hear any backtalk out of his boy. “Unless you want to stop, Scott, I recommend that you listen to your king.”

Shame and chagrin instantly travelled through Scott at the reprimand, feeling disappointed in himself for speaking out of turn again. Knowing that he would probably pay for it later, Scott whispered out a swift apology, sensing Reyes’ smug approval all the way from Kadara.

“Now, I want you to turn it up to the highest setting, cariño. Find your prostate, and you’re only allowed to fuck yourself there,” Reyes ordered. He grinned, reminding his submissive, “Make sure you wait for me to tell you to come, Scott. I would hate to have to add even more to this punishment of yours.” Even though it would actually please Reyes indefinitely to do so.

“Yes, s-sir,” Scott breathed in surrender. Leaving the toy eagerly vibrating inside of him, Scott’s fingers fumbled with the switch on the bottom of the toy, cranking it up to level 10. While the vibrations’ intensity gradually increased in speed and movement, Scott couldn’t help but to yell out an unintelligible slur of words, his left hand encased in the omnitool’s lights, gripping the sheets in an unbreakable grip, his other hand working the toy around shakily. Finding his prostate once again, nearly biting his lip off in the process, Scott closed his eyes, burying his reddened face in the bed, screaming as he rammed the toy against his prostrate unrelentingly.

“R-reyes,” Scott stuttered, tears streaming from his sealed eyes, leaking precariously down his stubbled cheeks. “Oh, God, please… ah, f-fuck…” Scott keened. “Please, I want to come, I want to come…” Scott rambled on, words eventually slurring together, tangling and tripping over each other until he was utterly unintelligible. Eventually, Reyes took pity on his sweet boy.

“Touch yourself,” Reyes said, Scott’s left hand instantly wrapping around his dick, stroking himself in a sloppy, unsteady rhythm along with the toy’s wild ministrations. He was so close… Voice low and seductive, Reyes smiled warmly at his omnitool, giving his final command for the evening. “Come for me, Scott.”

And that was all it took.

Scott’s mind seemed to go supernova, white exploding across his vision in a blast of light, black dots littering his sight here and there, ears ringing as if an explosion actually went off. Scott vaguely felt his cock pulse through his orgasm, his nonsensical babbling tumbling out of his mouth, come spraying over his hand, his sheets, his chest, painting his body in brushstrokes of pearly white. It was all so overwhelmingly good, heart racing and pulse thumping, waves upon waves undulating through his system until he finally felt completely, impossibly, emptied.

Coming down from his high, Scott tried unsuccessfully to catch his breath, forehead braced against his soft mattress, body staining his bed with all kinds of bodily fluids. Pulling the vibrator out of his wet channel, blushing when it made this messy slurping sound, he felt it slip out with a final pop, pressing the power button roughly before throwing the insufferable thing on his bed. Flopping down onto the covers like a limp noodle, Scott released his oversensitive cock, pulling his sticky hand out from under him to look at his omnitool, limbs boneless and sore.

Scott chuckled wearily, feeling as if he was still floating on cloud 9. “Damn.”

Reyes laughed at his boy’s speechlessness, loving how used and worn he sounded. “Oh, I live but to serve, mi cariño.”

After exchanging a brief chuckle, marinating in his endorphins, it was then that Scott realized something. “Reyes, did you—?”

“No,” Reyes interrupted and before Scott could say anything else in protest, he continued on stubbornly. “Don’t worry about me, mi ángel. Trust me, I’m good. I’ll take care of myself soon enough, but this was about you. I told you that I’d take care of you, didn’t I?”

_And he definitely did that,_ Scott thought to himself in blissful satisfaction. It became quiet for awhile before either man spoke up again. A thought entered Scott’s mind, and while he didn’t want to ruin the afterglow of a mind-blowing orgasm, he knew that he needed to say it.

“I want to keep it,” Scott murmured decisively, voice quiet and tentative, fingers tracing indiscernible patterns into his bedspread. Reyes tensed slightly on his side of the line, relaxing briefly afterwards with a whooshing sigh.

“If you are certain about it,” Reyes said resignedly. “I—” He sighed in frustration, trying to find the words that eluded him, to get his message across as clearly as possible. “Scott, I do _like_ it. Maybe a little too much, actually,” Reyes grumbled to himself.

“You do?” Scott questioned incredulously. Reyes chuckled histerically.

“Of course. I mean, how couldn’t I? To see someone you l-like so much marked up with your name on them. That really does something to a man’s ego. You, Scott Ryder, seem to know exactly which of my buttons to push,” Reyes complimented. However, on his side of things, Scott scrunched up his nose at that response, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“You seemed pretty upset about it before…” Scott commented, trailing off at the end, in search of an explanation.

“Only because I was trying to look out for you. I—” Reyes snarled at himself in frustration, angered to be at such a loss as to how to explain this. “The last thing I want is for you to tie yourself to me somehow, and then regret it later. The last thing I want is for someone better than I to come along and capture your attention and have you resent me for some situation like this, where there is no turning back.”

“Reyes…” Scott said brokenly, wishing beyond anything that this wonderful man could see himself through Scott's eyes for one second, to feel what Scott felt for him, as if Reyes had hung the stars himself, someone worthy to be loved and cherished. When Reyes didn’t reply, Scott huffed silently. “You’re such a blind fool. How can everyone else see how set I am when it comes to you, but _you_? I know you’re not ready to say it yet, but _I love you_ , you insufferable man. And if I have to say it every day until it gets drilled into that thick skull of yours, then I will.”

“I just don’t want you to be stuck with something or, in this case, some _one_ that you might regret later.”

“If I get stuck with you, then I must be doing something right,” Ryder said cheesily, grinning brightly at his omnitool when Reyes laughed bashfully.

“Watch it, Pathfinder, or I might start thinking that you actually like me,” Reyes teased, repeating those words that feel like they were from an eternity ago. Scott snorted.

“Just ‘like’?” Scott taunted, dopey smile refusing to go away. As soon as Reyes went to respond, however, a loud chime interrupted their conversation. Instinctively, Scott went to check his omnitool, but Reyes let out a mournful groan before he could even pull up his notifications.

“Keema’s messaging me. Says she needs to meet with me.”

“Sounds urgent…” Scott said hesitantly.

“Don’t know yet, but I have to go.” Reyes paused. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Okay,” Scott agreed. “Love you.”

At that response, Reyes couldn't help beaming at his omnitool, gleefully acting like a teenage boy would with his first crush, smiling like a dork at an inanimate object like this. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, mi ángel.” And his voice told Scott all he needed to know before the call ended, omnitool shutting off and leaving Scott to ponder the day’s events.

_Well_ , Scott thought blissfully, turning over onto his back, smiling goofily into the darkness of his room, contemplating the ceiling silently once again, _this was way better than a Blasto marathon._

***

A week or two later, after Scott and his squad had boarded the _Tempest_ after successfully infiltrating a rising kett base on Voeld, Scott showered off the muck from the day’s mission, trudging sluggishly to his quarters and flopping down lifelessly on the bed.

Sitting up, only after he had relished the bed’s softness for a minute or two, he pulled up his omnitool’s interface, smiling gently when he saw that he had an unread message from Reyes, responding to their earlier correspondence before Scott had disembarked the _Tempest_. Opening it and its accompanying attachment, Scott felt his jaw drop slightly at the image before him.

Fresh from a shower, with steam curling and caressing that caramel-tinted skin, Reyes’ dark hair was messily askew, golden eyes hooded in arousal, soft lips pursed and pleading to be kissed. His free hand held his towel up, lying dangerously low on his hips, his happy trail hinting teasingly at what lay out of view, the “v”-shaped indention of his hips begging to be licked. Throat dry, mouth watering, Scott’s eyes followed up the planes of Reyes’ stomach, admiring his fit body longingly before Scott stopped abruptly in his assessment, eyes widening in surprise.

Because right there, nestled on Reyes’ left pectoral, where the strongest side of the heart lay, was a gorgeous, black tattoo. Framed securely by two angel wings, wearing a tilted halo, lay two words.

Scott Ryder.

And the five-worded message that followed the picture made Scott’s heart leap from pure joy.

**R: Be Safe. I love you. ;)**

And you damn well better believe that Scott said, "I love you, too."

**Author's Note:**

> *Sighs Dreamily* All the feels! I think I got several cavities from writing this. I'm so gone on these two. But it's okay, Scott. If Reyes Vidal was my man, I too would get a tramp stamp in his honor. <3


End file.
